Home for Christmas
by Rurouni Star
Summary: [MK][oneshot] No one wants to be away from home during Christmas. But sometimes, home is right in front of you.


Warning - incredibly corny, probably improbable, and enthusiastically MK. Merry Christmas.

**Home for Christmas  
****By Rurouni Star**

Kagome watched the snow fall quietly, arms wrapped about herself, holding the shivers in. The mansion behind her was quiet, the sleeping sighs of the occupants masked by the closed door.

A normal person from this era wouldn't be sitting outside, alone, in the dark, she thought to herself tiredly. But then, a normal person didn't know about Christmas – didn't wonder as winter approached what day it was, if it was the twenty-fifth yet. A normal person didn't have a family five hundred years in the future, didn't envision their little brother exchanging gifts with his grandfather, didn't know in their heart that he was leaving one beneath the tree in hopes that its recipient would be back any second to open it.

She trained her eyes on a single snowflake from the gently blowing flurry, watched it fall to the ground and mingle with the rest. Kagome knew, somehow, that tonight was Christmas. And if it wasn't, it might as well have been – because they couldn't get back to the well. The currently impassable mountains in between were packed with snow.

A frigid breeze teased its way through her kimono, between the wide-open joint where the sleeve met the body. She gathered her red hakama about her and hunkered down stubbornly, inwardly wishing for the winter clothes of her own age. Currently, Kaede's loaned miko outfit was the warmest thing she had.

She knew she should probably have gone in. Even if they weren't able to get to the village, they were probably still going to travel _somewhere_, and having her come down with a cold – or worse, pneumonia – would slow them down considerably. But… somehow, she couldn't make herself move. Couldn't make herself want to.

Kagome wanted to be at home. She wanted to be sitting by the fire, drinking hot chocolate, watching corny Christmas specials. She wanted her big fat cat to sit on her lap, awaiting his yearly catnip present expectantly. She wanted… she wanted… but she wanted to stay here forever, too. She never wanted to leave these people, these friends she loved so much it made her ache.

Bleakly, the seventeen year old girl watched the glittering moon flit between pure white snow-clouds and realized that no matter what happened, her Christmases would never be the same.

"Kagome-sama?"

The faint, bleary voice startled her – she leapt up with a gasp and slipped as blood rushed all at once to her tingling legs. Kagome moved to grasp at a door, hoping it wouldn't break – but instead, a warm hand caught hers and pulled her up.

Miroku regarded her seriously, now wide awake. He wasn't wearing his robes – he'd been just sleeping, she assumed. Instead, he was clad only in a plain white kimono and pants.

"I apologize," he said courteously. "But what are you doing up at this hour? And in the cold?"

She blinked as she settled down to the floor, realizing just how cold she was in contrast to his hand. Kagome found she couldn't quite articulate an answer.

Miroku stared at her inquisitively for a few moments before settling down beside her. "Kagome-sama?" he repeated, awaiting an answer.

She sighed.

"I don't know," she admitted, her arms snaking about herself again. "I… no. I guess I do know. I'm tired."

Miroku raised an eyebrow, as if to ask her why she wasn't sleeping inside, then.

"Not physically," she told him, confiding in the pale, snow-tinted darkness what she could never bring herself to admit during the day. "Well… well physically too, I guess. But it's something that's been building a while, a kind of half homesickness…"

Miroku regarded her quietly, and she could see him trying to understand. "Half?" he asked.

"I…" Kagome bit her lip and winced as her teeth stuck to it. "I want to go home. But at the same time, I don't ever want to leave."

His eyes cleared as he figured things out.

"You're torn between worlds," he guessed correctly.

"Yes," Kagome sighed.

Another cold wind blew, and she clenched her teeth against it, beginning to wonder why she hadn't gone in yet. The desire still wasn't there, for no particular reason she could tell.

Without even asking and before she could react, Miroku drew her in close to him. She felt the remnants of his heat from the blanket seep into her, and despite herself, drew closer to it.

Miroku, for once, made no smart remarks. Somehow, he knew when to stay silent. When it really counted.

Something strange occurred to her then, and Kagome laughed helplessly as he picked up her hands between his own and began rubbing at them to restore the heat.

"You see?" she said. "I would miss – this! I'd miss _you!"_

Almost imperceptibly, his hands missed a beat. Miroku stiffened, as though he wanted badly to look up at her face and evaluate her intentions. Instead, he picked back up where he'd left off and rubbed at her chilled skin again.

"Miroku?" she asked, immediately concerned. "Is something wrong?"

He stopped again – and slowly, his eyes raised to look at her. There was something there she didn't quite understand – something she hadn't noticed before.

He smiled, and she recognized it as the empty, kindhearted thing it was. "No," he said. "Nothing." And suddenly, he was looking past her, possibly at the moon. "You should get inside before you get sick."

Kagome didn't move, though – she searched his face carefully, feeling distressed. Had she said something wrong?

It dawned on her then that he might miss her too.

"I'm sorry," she said guiltily.

Miroku looked back at her sharply. "For what?" he asked.

"For…" she struggled. "For bringing it up. I guess it never occurred to me that people here might miss me too."

A strange expression overtook his face, then, and she realized that he, too, was being beguiled into honestly in the night. "It never really occurred to me," he told her quietly. "That you were going to leave. It should have, I know – but I suppose I thought you'd just be here forever, like this."

His hands were still clasping hers. For some reason, Kagome thought more of it than she might have otherwise.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, and this time she found herself really, truly imagining a world without them – a world without _Miroku._ It was more frightening than she'd ever have thought. A cold tear moved its way down her cheek, dropping to her hand, stinging it. Another followed quickly after, but she managed with effort to quash the rest. The shivering of her body increased – but not because of the cold.

Miroku seemed to misunderstand, though, because he drew her closer, right up against his chest. The thought flitted across her mind that she fit there well – warm and secure and somehow comforted. She could hear his heartbeat against her cheek; her own was slowing down to match it.

"Are you feeling warmer now?" he asked her quietly, and she found she could do little other than make a small, sleepy, affirmative noise.

The snow was still falling, but she no longer felt such a dreadful need to watch it. Her fascination had changed, and she found that the same strange need now applied to listening to Miroku's heart beating against her, feeling his arms closed about her back, breathing in his unique scent as though committing it forever to memory.

"Would you really miss me?" she whispered, feeling that something in the situation was still escaping her.

In reply, Miroku's arms tightened about her. The beads about his right hand clicked softly together – she had the vague feeling that he was trying to ascertain that she was still real. No other response to her question was needed.

"Kagome," he said suddenly, and she detected a note of recklessness in his tone. "Is your face cold?"

She blinked, felt her eyelashes skim the soft material of his gi. "It is, I suppose," she said, realizing this was so.

Miroku drew away from her, then pressed his hands to either side of her face. Suddenly, she found herself incredibly sensitive to his skin against hers, felt his heat suffuse her completely. He was looking at her with an intensity that might have been frightening at any other time, but only seemed incredibly right at the moment.

"Your lips look blue," he told her decisively, and she felt her heart flutter, and her breath catch in her throat.

"O-oh?" she managed, instinctively touching her tongue to her bottom lip and flinching as it grazed cold skin.

And then, he leaned forward to catch her mouth with his own – and the world stopped completely.

Every nerve inside her was suddenly aflame – incredibly attuned to everything he was, every place his skin brushed hers. And just as everything else this night, she felt that any other time she might have done something else. But the night was cold, and he was oh so warm, and she could feel an incredulous lightness pushing at her heart…

Fingers threaded through her hair, beads still clinking softly, and she was leaning in to angle her head, and he was warm against her, and she was shivering violently from something that was possibly the complete opposite of cold.

A small sound vibrated through her – she realized a second later that it had come from her. Miroku pulled away abruptly, seeming surprised at himself… and slightly ashamed?

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was incredibly- that was- it was wrong-"

He looked uncomfortable, began to disentangle himself from her, and she realized that he thought he'd taken advantage of the situation.

"No," she said quickly, before she could stop herself.

Miroku paused, looking incredulous.

Kagome felt her cheeks heat up horribly. "I mean… um…"

He was looking ready to bolt. An incredible humiliation built up inside her in expectation of what she was about to say – she pushed it out before she could think about it. "You should stay," she said with a wrench.

Miroku stared at her.

There was a very uncomfortable moment between them during which time Kagome wondered in a panic whether she might have mistaken him. Despite the absurdity of the idea, it took root in her mind and grew to epic proportions. Somehow, he'd not meant it. He'd though he was dreaming. He'd been playing with her-

"I should?" he asked, bewildered, as though the idea were incredible, some kind of amazing poetry or revolutionary idea.

Kagome froze helplessly, feeling as though she ought to say something – anything – but knowing she was too paralyzed to move. Her lips were still slightly swollen – no, it couldn't have been some kind of waking dream. It had happened, no matter how surreal the whole thing seemed.

And suddenly, she found herself taking a step back in time; his lips were back on hers, but this time he was nipping at her bottom lip, and her mouth was opening, letting him do what he wanted. He was kissing her furiously, as though she might change her mind at any moment – and Kagome felt herself go limp at the feel of a hand at the small of her back, pulling her against him while the beads continued to shift in her hair…

There was something strangely ecstatic about the whole thing. She realized what it was a moment later. Something had clicked inside of her at this – at the feeling of someone caring about her, about her caring back as well. It was a gentle warmth, a flying sensation in her chest. It was like being at home, in front of the fire, smiling at her mother, playing with her brother…

It took her a moment to realize that she was no longer pressed so tightly against him – that the warmth on her face was now his breath against her lips, his face inches away. Her eyes were closed in a blissful realization.

"You're serious," he managed incredulously.

"You know," she said, blinking her eyes open. "I think I am."

She'd wanted to be home for Christmas. But maybe she already was.


End file.
